


Potential Energy

by magicianlogician12



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianlogician12/pseuds/magicianlogician12
Summary: Sith lord Yevari Suvra's first confrontation with Darth Thanaton goes poorly. Ashara keeps vigil.





	Potential Energy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr, this was intended to be a one-shot but may evolve into a short multi-chapter fic if the inspiration strikes.

There was a stillness to the ship Ashara found unsettling.

Ever since the day she’d first set foot aboard, Ashara had felt a certain _energy_  in the vessel, unnameable, unknowable, but vibrant, and somehow melancholy as well. It made the ship feel alive, and after a while Ashara had come to the conclusion she was sensing the feelings of others on this ship, through the Force.

Yevari had never dismissed the theory, though there was no real way to test it. She had listened intently when Ashara described the feeling, and in the end said, “We sense the Force in different ways, but I don’t doubt you.”

Ashara hadn’t thought she would miss that energy this keenly.

There was little to do at the moment besides wait, but Ashara was itching to be _doing_  something. In the end, Ashara got up from meditating and went to patrol the ship for at least the tenth time in the past hour. No one appeared surprised to see her making the rounds.

She stopped, this time, beside the room Yevari had been placed in following her confrontation with Darth Thanaton. She hadn’t moved since being brought back here, over a day ago, and as far as Ashara knew, she had not eaten or drunk anything in that time, either.

She found her hand on the doorway before she caught herself, and was about to step back when a small sound of distress, maybe pain, brought Ashara to the bedside.

Yevari was asleep, but it was restless–her tattooed brow was pinched and damp with sweat, and the roots of her hair were nearly soaked through. Even from this distance, Ashara could see her body–so much smaller now than she remembered, though she was more than familiar with the lord’s less than imposing stature–shaking, wracked with something that almost reminded Ashara of a feverish chill.

Once, Ashara had thought it was the ship itself that possessed such vibrant and contradictory energy, but now, she thought it might simply be Yevari herself. She almost didn’t _want_  to believe it, because that meant her friend, her _something_ , was very ill indeed. Not even _ill_ , precisely, but…fading.

_Dying._

Ashara shook her head and leaned farther over Yevari, resting one hand on her forehead. Her skin was nearly ice-cold to the touch, and Yevari shuddered before shifting and turning over in her sleep. She muttered something in her sleep that Ashara couldn’t decipher, but the tightness in her brow didn’t loosen, and Ashara had a feeling whatever Yevari was dreaming, it wasn’t pleasant.

Shedding her robe and leaving just the armor beneath, Ashara sat cross-legged in the space Yevari didn’t take up in her restless slumber.

Something shifted in Yevari’s posture, and she turned slowly over, bloodshot green eyes unfocused as she blinked several times. “Ashara.”

She didn’t know what to say for a few long seconds, then something in the atmosphere relented, and Ashara said, “How do you feel?”

Yevari considered. “Cold.” she finally answered, barely audible, and shivered to punctuate the point. She released a breath that Ashara would’ve called a laugh under normal circumstances. “Weak.”

“After what went wrong, I don’t know if we can call it _normal_ , but I wouldn’t say I’m surprised.” Ashara paused. “Do your ghosts, uh, talk?”

Yevari turned over again, away from Ashara, and curled herself up tightly, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. “Yes. In fact, they’re incessant. They won’t be _quiet_. It makes my head hurt.”

Ashara considered her response. Normally, complaining was good. Yevari complaining meant that she had the _energy_  to complain, just for the sake of it.

Now, though…it didn’t sound like a complaint. Not an exaggerated one, at least.

Resting her hand on Yevari’s arm, the Sith sighed again and some of the tension left her frame. “Do you…want anything?”

“I don’t know.” Yevari’s voice sounded a bit more plaintive that time, more _normal_ , but still laced with exhaustion and pain. “I’d like to not be so cold, at least.”

The quiet that followed was eventually filled with the sound of Yevari’s breathing rhythm changing as she fell asleep once more. Ashara let out a quiet breath of her own and laid down carefully, gently, next to the sleeping Yevari.

It started slowly–a hand on Yevari’s arm, her shoulder, reaching carefully around to loosely encircle her ribcage, hesitant and gentle, like Yevari was made of glass, until Ashara could feel the chill of Yevari’s body against hers even through the thin layer of armor beneath her robe.

Ashara felt the stillness of the ship all around them, and thought this time it was almost holding its breath in anticipation, waiting. It made her feel no less uneasy.

* * *

Yevari’s world existed only in her dreams.

Dark, oily shadows darted just out of reach, shapeless, nameless, but with voices she did recognize.

_Venom-toothed viper…_

_…she wants to think…!_

_…reaching for power beyond her ability…_

Yevari wanted to shake her head, try and think, but it was impossible. Wakefulness helped, but she had so little energy to stay awake for long. She had to try, though–anything was better than listening to their voices for another damned second.

When she opened her eyes, even unfocused and indistinct, she could make out the familiar colors and shapes well enough. “Ashara.”

There was a pregnant pause before Ashara asked, “How do you feel?”

How _did_  she feel? What were the words for _this_? She finally settled on a simple one. “Cold.” after another moment’s consideration, she added, with a noise that tried to be a dry sound of self-deprecating amusement, “Weak.”

_You’re dying, little snake. Don’t struggle. It’ll only prolong the inevitable._

“Do your ghosts, uh, talk?”

The irony of the timing of Ashara’s question wasn’t lost on Yevari. “Yes. In fact, they’re incessant. They won’t be _quiet_. It makes my head hurt.”

She hated the thready quality to her words, the words admitting her weakness. She hated that she couldn’t face her trusted friend, her trusted _something_ , while she admitted it.

There was no judgment in Ashara’s next question, just a quiet steadiness that made Yevari’s heart swell. “Do you…want anything?”

_I want things to be quiet again. I want them out of my head. I want to think._

Again, she went with the simplest answer. “I don’t know. I’d like to not be so cold, at least.”

More than anything, though, Yevari wanted to _speak,_ when there was so much that she wanted to say. As exhaustion tugged at her eyelids, though, she knew she couldn’t manage it, not yet.

Her dozing was fitful, but she felt a firm and familiar pressure on her arm, and it was the last thing she knew before her dreams rose up to claim her.

* * *

Ashara didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but knew instantly upon waking that Yevari’s fever–or whatever it really was–had improved. Her skin didn’t feel quite so clammy or ice-cold, and when Yevari opened her eyes, it took much less time for them to focus.

It was the surprise that jolted Ashara back to the present, and she blinked twice before rolling sharply away. “Sorry, I…”

“Thank you.” Yevari’s response was just as surprising as the subdued tone she said it in, and Ashara couldn’t respond herself for a few crucial seconds. The moment was shattered by the ship departing hyperspace, and Yevari rose slowly and shakily to her feet, reaching for her armor on the floor. Ashara left before anything else could be said.

When she made her patrol around the ship again, though–the same one Ashara had made so many times the day before–the air didn’t feel quite so still, and when Yevari emerged, fully-armored and carrying her lightsaber, chin held high even as her posture wavered with an indescribable fatigue, some of the tension relented its hold on the ship.

At the airlock, Ashara stood beside Yevari and waited for the seals to secure. “You sure you’re okay?”

Yevari turned, and smiled for the first time since being brought back to her ship, however small and slight. “I will be.”

Ashara believed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
